


Soldier, On

by anythingbutplatonic



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 4x18, Death, Eleven Fifty-Nine, Episode Related, F/M, Felicity-centric, Gen, Grief, Major character death - Freeform, Missing Scene, bereavement, episode reaction fic, olicity - Freeform, with a little Olicity within the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 23:39:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6774916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anythingbutplatonic/pseuds/anythingbutplatonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even the strongest could crumble and break.</p>
<p>Episode reaction/missing scene fic for 4x18 "Eleven Fifty-Nine".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soldier, On

It wasn’t real.

It _couldn’t_  be real.

It just wasn’t happening, it just _couldn’t_  be happening, because - because Laurel wasn’t _dead_. She wasn’t....gone. She wasn’t.

_She wasn’t_.

The mantra echoed inside Felicity’s head as a sob wrenched itself from her chest, the shock and pain and _bewilderment_  of seeing her friend depart from the earth right before her eyes searing her ribs, her heart, her lungs. 

“Time of death, eleven fifty-nine.”

_No_.

_This wasn’t happening_.

She turned, hiding her face in Dig’s massive chest, tears streaming down her cheeks as she pressed her forehead to his shoulder and _sobbed_.

She could hear, somewhere behind her, Thea’s shaky breaths and hitching whimpers, as grief settled over the four of them like a blanket. 

Laurel was gone.

_Laurel_  was _gone_.

Felicity clung to the front of Dig’s sweater, concentrating on the feel of the fabric between her fingers. His arm was banded around her, holding her close to him, and she was so grateful for the stabilizing gesture, grounding her. 

She thought if he let go, she might fall.

Cracking one bloodshot eye open, she turned her head infinitesimally; she barely realized she had done it before she was taking in the sight of Oliver, white as chalk underneath the red blotchiness of his cheeks from his own tears. He had Thea plastered to his side and was deliberately looking, laser-like, at the floor, and _not_  at the hospital bed where Laurel lay, lifeless. 

Felicity wished, more than almost anything else, that she could go to him and put her arms around him and....do _something_  to help. To comfort him. Not caring who saw them, or that it was hardly the place - or the right presence of company - to do so. She’d throw herself into his arms in the hospital corridor and hold on so tightly he’d wince at the grip of her fingers and she wouldn’t give a single damn. Not today, not here. Not when something so terrible had happened it was almost impossible to register. 

She flexed her left hand agitatedly where it was pressed to Dig’s chest. It was still strange not feeling the smooth silver metal of the engagement ring that used to be there, not months ago. It felt alien to not have the weight on her finger, to wake up and not feel it pressing into her cheek where she had her hands cupped under head. 

She willed him to look in her direction, to make eye contact. _Anything_. They’d always sought each other out in times of struggle, like magnets gravitating in the same direction. But he remained still and silent as a statue, swaying slightly every so often, like he was having a hard time keeping himself upright.

Even the strongest could crumble and break. She’d seen it. With Oliver. With Diggle. With Thea. 

And now, too, with Laurel. 

Closing her eyes, her lips soundlessly formed one word, and one word only.

_Goodbye_. 


End file.
